Paperdollblewsaway
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Name: Nathalie
Birthday: 6/25/1981
Gender: Female


Interests: music, art, creativity, photography (collecting, but taking pictures aswell), my friends, discussions about everything and anything, a good talk which carries me, thought-provoking stuff, cats, books, interior, theater, movies, in general the little things in life


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Member Since: 12/21/2008

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Friday, October 30, 2009

the journey.





i looked into your eyes and saw a world that does not exist. i looked into your eyes and saw a world i wish i was in.


 















One day you knew what you had to do and began,
though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice
though the whole house begand to tremble
and you felt the old tug at your ankles
'Mend my life!'
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do
though the wind pried with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancoly was terrible.
It was already late enough,
and a wild night
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little
as you left their voices behind
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized by your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world
determined to do
the only thing you could do-
determined to save
the only life you could save

Mary Oliver, The Journey


Say it out loud.



Friday, October 16, 2009

i'll be lightning.





i used to love the darkness but the sun is my new best friend. as soon as i embraced him he put my misery to an end
Abbe Yeux-verdi

i'll be lightning. you'll be lightning.



I held the stars to light where you are. When your unfeigned heart called to me through the dark soaked in the sound that rose from the ground. There i could feel. I felt, i felt you near.




Light when suddenly let in, dazzles and hurts and almost blinds us: but this soon passes away, and it seems to become the only element we can exist in
Augustus William Hare and Julius Charles Hare, Guesses at Truth, by Two Brothers, 1829






Ever since we we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry, 'More light'. Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlelight. Neon, incandescent lights that banish the darkness from our caves to illuminate our roads, insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at soldier's field. Little tiny flashlights for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Light is knowledge, light is life, light is light.
Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

p.s. isn't it beautiful?





Your life is something opaque, not transparent, as long as you look at it in an ordinary human way. But if you hold it up against the light [...] it shines and turns transparent, radiant and bright. And then you ask yourself in amazement: Is this really my own life i see before me?
Albert Schweitzer





Thread the light, thread the light
thread the light, thread the light
shine the light, don't hide the light
live the light and give the light,
seek the light and speak the light
crave the light and brave the light,
stare the light and share the light,
show the light and know the light,
raise the light and praise the light,
thread the light
and spread the light

this low, the swell season



gonna watch these amazing, amazing artists live next year in february, i really can't wait.



i wish you light.



Tuesday, October 06, 2009

it was you.





and it was you who let everything into my heart and it was you who once again awoke my spirit


"She belonged to me" he said simply. "She was, you know, all the things i wasn't. And i was all the things she wasn't. She could paint circles around anyone; i even can't draw a straight line. She was never into sports; i've always been. he lifted his outstretched palm and curled his fingers.
"Her hand", he said. "It fit mine."




Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement. It is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being 'in love' which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away  and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.[...] we had roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.
St. Augustine
























its still a little hard for me to think that it is me, my self, that is loved.
Its like that sometimes i try to figure out how that can be.
but that is okay as i'm on my way to put a little trust.
one step, two steps..
still a long road ahead of me but i keep going.

-----

All my life i had been looking for something, and everywhere i turned someone tried to tell me what it was. I accepted their answers too though they were often in contradiction and even self-contradictory. I was naive. I was looking for myself and asking everyone exept myself questions which i, and only i, could answer. It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: that i am nobody but myself.
Ralph Ellison, 'Battle Royal'




Friday, September 25, 2009

the orange girl.





'In life we sometimes need to yearn a little'

(The Orange Girl)


Yesterday i finished 'The Orange Girl' by Jostein Gaarder and probably cried for the last half an hour or so. Here are some favourite parts of the book that made me feel so much and showed me once again what really is important in life. After finishing the book I felt a need to call my boyfriend and asking if he is okay, a feeling of gracefulness overcame me. i needed to cuddle my cat as intensively as it was possible if i didn't want to squeeze her. I thought about the really important things and how precious they are, how much joy and happiness they bring but how dependent we are aswell when its about loving something or somebody so much. But the fact that i was and still i am allowed to have love and wonderful things in my life is probably something i don't wanna miss even when it means it can take away from you or you can loose it.
Wow.
How hard to think about it especially when you think it can happen to you. Of course it happened already, i have to mention.
How hardly we all can think about our personal answer when it comes to read the words at the bottom of my entry.
I suppose there can't be an exactly answer.
But it gives enough inspiration to fill every single hole in our lives when we have understood what the character is trying to say.

It's a warmhearting book i only can recommend it to you guys.
Hope you all are well.
A lovely hug to my friend be*loved (i hope you know that i'm talking about YOU:) who giving me so nice feedback when it comes to reading my entries that means so much.



I waited and waited. I looked at all the people who came and went in the square, locals and tourists alike. I was struck by what beautiful place the world was. Again i got a feeling of euphoria linked to everything around me. Who are we who live here? Every single person in the plaza was like a living treasure full of thoughts and memories, dreams and desires.

Its not always easy to find a particular person in a large city, at least not if what you want to do is meet them as if by chance, the orange girl continued. And sometimes that's exactly what you want to do. I was going on the painting course, and i didn't want to get tied up with someone just before i left. But if two people do almost nothing except search for one another, it's hardly surprising if they run across each other by chance.






I asked again: 'What did you want with all those oranges?
'I was going to paint them.'
Paint them? I was flabbergasted. 'All of them?'
She nodded gracefully, then she said 'I had to practise painting oranges before i went to art school in Seville.'
'But so many?'
'Yes i had to paint lots of oranges. That was what i was practising.'
I shook my head despairingly. Was she making a fool of me? 'But couldn't you have bought one orange and then tried to paint it several times?'
She tilted her head to one side and said in a voice full of resignation. 'I think you and i may have a lot to talk about in the future, because i believe you're probably blind in one eye.'
'Which one?'
'No two oranges are alike. Even two blades of grass aren't alike. That's the reason you're here now. '
I felt foolish. I couldn't understand what she was driving at. 'Because no two oranges are the same?'
'You didn't come all that way to Seville because you wanted to meet 'a woman'. If you did, you'll have gone to a whole lot of unnecessary trouble because Europe is full of women. You came to meet me. And there's only one of me. I didn't send a card from Seville to 'a man' in Oslo. I sent it to you.
-i love that one-



We used the pronoun 'we' more and more often. It's a strange word. Tomorrow i'm going to do this and that, we say. Or you ask what the other person, what 'you' are going to do. This isn't hard to understand. But suddenly the word 'we' emerges and with the greatest spontaneity. 'Shall we take a boat out to the islands and go swimming?' 'Or shall we just stay at home and read?' 'Did we enjoy that play?' And the one day, 'we're happy'.




Don't tell me nature isn't a miracle. Don't tell me the world isn't a fairytale. Anyone who hasn't realised that, may never understand until the fairytale is just about to end. Then there is one final chance to tear off the blinkers a last chance to rub your eyes in amazement, a final opportunity to abandon yourself to the wonder you are bidding farewell to and leaving. [...] No one has ever taken a tear-chocked leave of Euclid's geometry or the periodical system of atoms. No one's eyes become red-rimmed because they will be disconnected from the internet or taken away from their mulitplication tables. It is the world you take leave of, life, the fairytale. Then there is the little group of people you are genuinely fond of, you say goodbye to them, too.





Imagine that you were on the threshold of this fairytale, sometime billions of years ago when everything was created. And you were able to choose whether you wanted to be born to a life on this planet at some point. You wouldn't know when you were going to be born, nor how long you'd live for, but at any event it wouldn't be more than a few years. All you'd know was that, if you chose to come into the world at some point, you'd also have to leave it again one day and go away from everything. This might cause you a good deal of grief, as lots of people think that life in the great fairytale is so wonderful that the mere thought of it ending can bring tears to their eyes. Things can be so nice here that it's terribly painful to think that at some point the days will run out. What would you have chosen, if there had been some higher power that had gave you the choice? Perhaps we can imagine some sort of cosmic fairy in this great, strange fairytale. What you have chosen to live a life on earth at some point, whether short or long, in a hundred thousand or a hundred million years? Or would you have refused to join in the game because you didn't like the rules? [...]
I asked myself the same question maby times during the past few weeks. Would i have elected to live a life on earth in the firm knowledge that i'd suddenly be torn away from it, and perhaps in the midle of intoxicating happiness? [...]
Well, i wasn't sure what i would have chosen. [...]
If i'd chosen never to the foot inside the great fairytale, i'd never have known what i've lost. Do you see what i'm getting at? Sometimes it's worse for us human beings to lose something dear to us than never to have had it at all.



Wednesday, September 16, 2009

it takes braveness to live a happy life.




Don't loose your faith in me and i will try not to loose faith in you
don't put your trust in walls
'cause walls will only crush you when they fall
Ray lamontagne 'be here now'


well it might be kind of a gloomy post but that doesn't mean i became a poor girl who is feeling all alone in the world. But these are the things i thought about recently. to think and feel too much. when the sound of your own words can't be heard by anybody, when the sound of your own words is still in your mind not stopping to let your heart beating faster because of the anxiety not to feel understood or not to let yourself become a positive person, still feeling kind of prepared to get hurt by people, not to get treat the way you actually are deserving it.  not to be able to live a healthy life, like the pain and your worries run after you and almost kill you and you deeply want to let it stop like you know that it is only in your head but their heavyness weighs you down and scares and even impresses you to the same time and you feeling so tired of thinking about people leaving or staying, about why  life can be horrible unfair, about being loveable enough or interesting or pretty enough, you get so tired you could sleep for the next fifty years.
but i still love my man and music and my cats and millions of other details so that keeps me awake.








Sometimes i can hear my bones straining under the weight of  all the lives i'm not living
-Extremely loud and incredibly close-



When i was a girl my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog followed a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I cried over it. ...i spent my life learning to feel less.
-Extremely loud and incredibly close-





 




 



I feel too much. Thats whats going on. Do you think one can feel too much? Or just feel in the wrong ways? My insides don't match up with my outsides.  Do anyone's insides  and outsides match up?  I don't know., I'm only me. Maybe thats what a person's personality is: the difference between the inside and outside.
-Extremly loud and incredibly close-




 The most important things are the hardest to say.

They are the things you get ashamed of , because words diminish them, words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head, to not more than living size when they're brought out. But its more than that, isn't it? The most important things lied too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make relevations that cost you dearly  only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried when you were saying it. That's the worst i think. When the secret heart stays locked within for the want of a teller but for the want of an understanding ear. When the secret heart stays locked within for the want of a teller but for the want of an understanding ear.
Stephen King 





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